Nothing
by ImagineDragonzzz
Summary: She cannot look at him. He cannot look at her. All they know is that they are brother and sister, twins, who will not be together for much longer. This is The Quarter Quell for Cashmere and Gloss as well as a little taste of their own games. All they feel now is Nothing.


**NOTHING**

_This is my first oneshot so I hope I'm doing it right! xxx_

_Just to say I do not own The Hunger Games or any of the characters by Suzanne Collins. _

She cannot look at him. he cannot look at her. They both look straight ahead, ready for the verdict. Then,

a shrill voice calls out "Cashmere Tilver." A loud cheer breaks out as his sister walks up boldly to the stage

outside the Justice Building of District 1. She's wearing her brightest smile, but her eyes are blank.

Nothing.

He thinks to himself, she's going to die. She was only just lucky last time. Due to a technicality during the

64th Annual Hunger Games, Cashmere had managed to survive against the District 2 male, so she had

won. However, she would be nowhere near as lucky this time. He looked at her on the stage, smiling out

and occasionally flipping her long, blonde hair, which cascaded over her shoulders with curls. But her eyes

said nothing.

The shrilled voice then called out the next name: "Gloss Tilver." Like his sister, Gloss smiled to the audience

as the crowd erupted into cheers. He stood next to his sister, took her hand, and raised them above their

heads. He continued to smile, but the look in his eyes were blank.

Nothing.

He had won the year before her, however, unlike his sister, it was entirely of his own accord, using his strength,

brutality and intelligence. On reaching the final eight, he killed quickly and cleanly anyone he came across.

He was not one for putting on a show as such, however in the final two put up a heavy sword fight against the

dark horse of his games from District 8. He turned to look at his sister. She turned to look at her brother.

They smiled and waved at the crowd. But they had both noticed one thing in each others eyes. There was no

emotion, they were blank.

Nothing.

They walked into the Justice Building of District 1. They had trained for this since they were both eight years

old. They had stopped officially after winning, however, kept it up when they could in order to mentor their own

tributes. When their set of tributes said goodbye to them, they would smile, cry and hug them, wish them good

luck. But in each others eyes, they were devoid of emotion. They were blank.

Nothing.

Nobody came to say good bye to them. The rest of their family was dead. Neither had married or had children

or were in any relationships as such. They had acquaintances, not really any friends, however, when they

spoke to someone, their eyes were emotionally detached, they were blank.

Nothing.

They stepped onto the train to take them to The Capitol. They ate, avoiding cakes and puddings. They occasionally

caught eye contact with one another. They smiled. But in each other's eyes they saw only one thing. Nothing.

They were empty. The games had drained them, both physically and mentally. In fact if it wasn't for their wealth

being able to buy them beauty products, make up and fine clothing, they wouldn't look at all like the stereotypical

tributes from District 1. They would look like the Morphling addicts from District 6. They remembered their Victory

Tours, when they passed through District 6. They saw the deadpan looks of it's inhabitants, defeat and stress

written all over them. And the unmistakeable smell of Morphling which seemed to flood their nostrils. After both

siblings had competed and won their games, Gloss had broken his leg in an extreme motorcycle injury. He had

always been into adrenaline rushes and decided to pursue it as his hobby, crazily enough after what had happened

to him during the games. Anyway, to lessen the pain, he was given Morphling in small doses, not enough to make

you crave it and become an addict, though. However, he felt the pain of his leg and began to think about what he

did to other tributes, other children, most of whom were his age that particular year. He had felt the glory, the fame,

the pride, the rush, the kill, the excitement, the death, the fear, but most importantly the guilt. So he took two extra

doses of Morphling. Anything to take this feeling away which he had rarely felt before. The only other time he'd

felt it was when Cashmere was Reaped. The drug had given him excess happiness, urging him to take more;

he did. Next thing he knew, he was being pinned down to the bed by men in white coats. Never again, he told himself.

Cashmere was in her room on the District 1 floor. It hadn't changed at all since she was here. She took off her make

up, untied her hair, changed into a simple white nightdress and stared at herself in the mirror. Dark circles had

formed beneath her eyes, wrinkles were beginning to come through on her forehead and her eyes were devoid

of emotion. There was only one thing that she could see in them: Nothing. However, her muscles were still strong.

They were still there. She was still toned from her training. Maybe she had more strength than she originally

thought. However, there was one thing she could still see which weakened her. It was the reason that in summer

she'd never wear a two piece swimming costume or crop tops. Throughout her Games, she had taken up the

angle of the stereotypical District 1 female tribute: flirtatious, attractive and alluring. She would gain most of the

sponsor's because of her looks, that was what her mentor had told her. And of course she was an expert in

master manipulation in order to get what she wanted. Despite only winning because of a technicality in the games,

she still received a ten in training and could kill ruthlessly if she had too. However, like other victors before and

after her, if they were attractive enough, or had a certain charm to them, they were sold to The Capitol. Despite

her upbringing and the angle she had portrayed, she was really quite innocent and naive. So when someone

brought her for a slick five million, she thought it was just a few kisses and a fancy meal out. How wrong she was.

The result was a long, red scar across her abs. President Snow had refused her to get it officially removed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

On arriving in The Capitol, or "back home" as they had said in interviews, they were greeted by the citizens of

The Capitol in their odd looking clothing and colours. The girls flocked towards Gloss, the boys towards Cashmere.

Of course, they were the classically beautiful brother and sister from District 1, with their curly blonde hair and

sparkling green eyes. Like most, if not all the tributes from District 1. They were put into their costumes for the

tribute parade. However, unlike their original games, they felt that they knew everyone. Not well of course but

enough o know who was who. They spoke to their fellow Careers from District 2, Brutus and Enobaria. They shook

hands with each other and exchanged pleasantries. But that was when Gloss and Cashmere saw it. In Brutus and

Enobaria's eyes, behind their eagerness and bloodlust, behind her fangs and whatever words he would speak,

in their eyes was only one thing: Nothing.

Brutus and Enobaria saw the exact same thing in Gloss and Cashmere's eyes. And they all bonded that day.

The next day in training, Gloss and Cashmere through knives. They stuck by each other's sides, handing each

other new pieces of weaponry and again at the survival stations. They spoke to Katniss Everdeen, being polite

but distant and cool. They were wary of her. She was wary of them. That was when they saw it. In her eyes they

saw one thing and one thing only. Nothing. Her face was glazed over. They reckoned that she would have made

an excellent career for this reason, except for her District. She wore a mask well. They could read people and no

if they were genuine or not. Katniss was not genuine. But neither were they. However, the difference to these

games was that they were all adults and therefore, unlike when they were children, they had to behave as such.

They all ate together, laughing and chatting away as if they were not going to kill each other. They were reading

everyone. And in everyone's eyes they saw one thing and one thing only: Nothing.

At the interviews, they both played their parts well, in fact all the tributes did. However, they did not buy into that

whole star crossed lovers act at all. Careers could tell above everyone else. Brutus and Enobaria didn't believe

them either. Gloss and Cashmere undoubtedly wanted their revenge and now they were going to get it, even if

it was well and truly the last thing they'd do. They could could be dead this time tomorrow. This could be their

last night on Earth.

"I'm sorry," Cashmere sobbed, delicately wiping a tear away from her porcelain face. "It's just that I don't know how

The Capitol will cope loosing 23 of it's victors." Everyone knew what she meant; she was very hurt and betrayed

by how The Capitol - by that she meant President Snow - had treated her and her brother.

"Well, I can assure you we will be very much saying goodbye to a brother and sister that we have taken to our

hearts," Ceasar comforted her. She knew he was just as brainwashed as the rest of them so he couldn't

know as much as half of the truth, however she wanted to kill him right then and there. "Well, we're not going

by choice, Ceasar," assured Gloss. Now that was a real kick in the teeth to everyone, to Snow, the Capitol,

the other game makers, everybody actually. After all the interviews, Gloss and Cashmere willingly outstretched

their hands to each other and to Brutus and Enobaria who were less willing to do so, but eventually even they

did to their fellow tributes from District 3 and everyone was clutching their hands, holding them up in the air.

The crowd roared ferociously. Maybe they did stand a chance? Hah! Not likely. No one would help them. No one.

The one word that flashed through Cashmere and Gloss' minds was Nothing. And they were sure this was the

case for the others too.

The day of the games came quickly. Too quickly. They embraced before entering the hovercraft. Cashmere's

hair was pulled into a side ponytail, curled at the ends, whilst Gloss's hair was short and spiky. They were in

plain black suits, which were long sleeved and ended at the knee. They walked in, smiling at everyone. This

was so different to the hovercraft from when they had their games. They were not strapped in, and were

sitting talking freely to each other, no animosity at the moment, however of course there would be the minute

they were on those platforms. For now though, they could make the most of and say goodbye to the shred of

humanity they had left. They spoke mainly to Enobaria and Brutus, however they did occasionally acknowledge

the others, nodding politely or even smiling. The siblings hugged once more, this time tighter and more

desperate than before. This would be the last time that they would see each other before the games began.

They needed each other. They were all each other had. That was about to be destroyed. They kissed each

other on the cheeks out of pure affection for one another. As they were separated, to enter their tubes, the twins

thought that they saw something even if it was only for a split second. Something in each other's eyes. But this

time they were surprised by it. This time in each other's eyes, they were not devoid of emotion. In fact it

couldn't be defined by an emotion as such.

In each other's eyes they saw a tear begin to form, water beginning to glaze over their cat like green eyes.

This time it was something stronger than the games. It wasn't hope, they knew it was now too late for that.

It was love.


End file.
